Grapes
by sugarnspicey13
Summary: What happens when Greg hosts a party where the CSIs are required to dress up as one another? Hilarity ensues...
1. Greg's Great Idea

A/N~ Hey y'all! This is my first CSI fic...so here's hopin' it goes well! I would love any kind of review, critical or praise! Just don't flame me to death. That would be bad news. :)  
  
Disclaimer~ It would be lovely to own these amazing characters. Alas, I don't have the money, power, or position to do that. Therefore, I must admit that they are not mine....how sad. I own NOTHING.  
  
Spoilers~ None in this chapter! If there are any later, I'll be sure and tell ya!  
  
Summary~  
  
Grapes  
  
Chapter One  
  
Greg Sanders couldn't help but steal a glance or two at his watch while he waited for the DNA results to print out. He and the rest of the graveyarders were going on the final hour of their shift. One hour, and they'd be free for the weekend. A new team of trainees were coming in, and the labs and offices were to be left alone for their use. Greg smiled to himself, knowing that in one hour he'd be able to gather the rest of his team and tell them his big plans for Saturday night.  
  
**************************************************************************** **************  
  
The locker door shut with a mighty clang that echoed throughout the empty locker room. Nick Stokes swung his work bag over his shoulder and headed towards the door. He had spent the last 15 minutes of the slow work night contemplating what his plans were for the weekend. As he reached the door, it opened in front of him. Co-woker Sara Sidle's face appeared.  
  
"Greg wants us to meet him in the lab. Says its something important," she told Nick.  
  
Nick raised an eyebrow, "Greg? Telling us something important?"  
  
Sara nodded and smiled, "Yeah, so this probably means he finally got a date, and he wants us to congratulate him." Nick chuckled and followed Sara to the lab.  
  
**************************************************************************** *****************  
  
Warrick Brown was the last to arrive to the lab. "Sorry," he muttered to his already-seated companions, "the coffee machine....it wouldn't work." They stared at the crushed styrofoam cup in his hand that must have been destroyed in a fit of rage.  
  
Catherine Willows put a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and sighed impatiently, "Greg, you've been holding us hostage for 20 minutes. What's the deal?"  
  
Gil Grissom turned towards the young lab technician, "Yes, Greg, we are all waiting on bated breath for the meaning of this important meeting."  
  
Greg took a deep breath, like he was about to announce the winner at an award show. "With my immpecable cunning strategy, I have tatically asked each and every one of you what your plans were for this weekend of sovereignty." He paused and grinned. "Conveniently all of you were free. None of you had plans."  
  
He began to pace, milking the moment of attention for all its worth, "With this information, I had no choice but to act. No choice but to propose my scheme. And all of you, in turn, will have no choice but to concede."  
  
He grinned at the perplexed faces of his co-wokers. Warrick groaned, "What are you getting at?"  
  
"Well, my friend, I figure that we don't get enough 'down time' together, with there constantly being some sort of case or mishap to solve and our demanding, yet loving boss barking out orders here and there." Everyone stole a glance at Grissom, who looked unamused.  
  
"Of course, without his constant inspiration, we would get nowhere on ANY case," Greg said for a quick recovery.  
  
"Speaking of getting NOWHERE, why don't you just get to the point of bringing all of us here," Sara offered.  
  
"Okay, so the moral of the story is: I am having a costume party at my apartment tomorrow at six. All of you are invited."  
  
"Costume party?" Catharine purred, "I'm all up for that."  
  
"Ah, yes, Catherine, I thought you'd be into a party," Greg said, winking at her. He then dramatically added, "However, this is no ordinary costume party. This is the Greg Sanders version!"  
  
"Oh, man..." Nick started.  
  
Greg pulled out a hat that had been on top of his desk and held it in front of his audience. He shook it smugly, "In this hat are six names on a piece of paper. Our six names. Each one of us will draw out a name, and whoever you draw....you must dress up as. No one will know who you are until tomorrow night when you show up in costume."  
  
He paused and looked around the room at the mixed expressions on his friends faces. Warrick looked wary. Sara looked commending. Nick looked amazed. Catherine and Grissom both looked slightly amused.  
  
Greg took a piece of paper out of the hat, read it, and smiled the biggest of smiles, "Who's with me?"  
  
Nobody moved.  
  
Greg sighed, "Come ON what else do you have to do? Look at bugs? Gamble? Check homework?"  
  
Nick was the first to move forward, "If I end up getting one of the girls, it's your head, buddy."  
  
Greg grinned broadly as Nick stuck his hand in the hat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Nick glared at Greg suspiciously and opened up the paper. He looked down and turned bright red. He continued to stare at his paper, as if the letters would somehow rearrange themselves to form a different name.  
  
"What, not happy with your pick?" Warrick teased.  
  
Nick looked up, "Nah, it's....it's fine...hey, but if you're so tough, why don't you go?"  
  
Warrick shrugged and stepped up to Greg, "You're a messed up guy," he muttered as he pulled out a name. Warrick read his and grinned, glancing at Greg. "I know what I'm gonna do...can I leave?"  
  
Greg nodded cheerfully and held out the hat to the remaining three as Warrick and Nick left. Catherine sighed and unfolded her arms, "Well, I suppose the sooner I go the better," she muttered. She withdrew a name and scanned the piece of paper.  
  
"Nice," she said in her classic undertone and headed for the door, "see you three tomorrow."  
  
"Two little monkeys jumping on the bed..." Greg sang as Grissom and Sara eyed eachother, as if daring for the other to go first.  
  
"Ugh, fine!" Sara spat and grabbed a piece of paper. She glanced at it and twirrled out the door without another word.  
  
"I guess that leaves me with the leftover," Grissom said quietly. He took the remaining piece of paper and pocketed it. Greg stared at his boss.  
  
"I'm not looking at it until I get home," Grissom explained as he picked up his coat and left.  
  
Once Grissom left, Greg smiled and said to himself, "Six CSIs...each and every one of them about to find out what others see them as. Let the drama begin..." 


	2. Pain and Process

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! They have helped me a lot! Don't think of this chapter as a filler...it just felt wrong to leap RIGHT into the party.  
  
Chapter Two summary: The befuzzled (is that a word?) CSIs try to figure out exactly HOW they are to dress up as each other.  
  
Chapter 2: Pain and Process  
  
Sara paced around her apartment. How...how...how was she going to dress up as her pick? There was no way to pull this off. Unless...  
  
Sara glanced over at her phone. She could call Catherine for help. She pondered this thought for a while. Her and Catherine had never been very close. There had always been some sort of barriar that kept them from becoming good friends. Almost like some sort of rivalry. *Don't be stupid* she told herself, and reached for the receiver.  
  
*************************  
  
"How about this? Does this look like him?" Catherine asked her critical analyzer, who was seated at the foot of Catherine's bed.  
  
The analyzer, who happened to be Catherine's daughter, Lindsey, surveyed her mother like a true professional. "Nah, it looks like something any other guy would wear."  
  
Catherine groaned and plopped down next to her daughter, "You've said that about the last TEN outfits I've tried on!"  
  
Lindsey shrugged, "Well, it's true! You can't show up tomorrow wearing jeans and a t-shirt and expect everyone else to know who you are!"  
  
Catherine's sullen expression brightened, "I could dye my hair..."  
  
A look of horror spread across Lindsey's face, "MOM!" she exclaimed, "I thought I was the one that was supposed to come up with the stupid ideas!"  
  
Catherine laid back, feeling defeated, "Well, then what I am supposed to do?" She looked up towards the heavens, "PLEASE, give me an answer!"  
  
Just then the phone rang. Both heads snapped in its direction.  
  
"Wow," Catherine said, sounding impressed.  
  
"Yeah! How weird!" Lindsey agreed as her mother strode across the room and answered the phone.  
  
"Yeah? Sara?" Pause. "Is...is everything alright?" Pause. "Real-ly? Me too!" Longer pause. "I thought we weren't supposed to share who we were." Pause. "Yeah, you're right, forget that joke. I'll be over in five."  
  
Catherine hung up the phone and headed for her coat and keys. As she headed towards the door, she informed Lindsey on what she was doing, "I'm going over to Sara's. Turns out she needs help, too. Figures Greg would hand out an assignment NO one can do. It's way past your bedtime, missy, so I'd like to see you asleep by the time I get home. Love ya, babe." ********************************* Nick was enjoying a nice late-night game of football. He hadn't even considered starting his costume since he walked in the door.  
  
"Oh, MAN! Come on, Houston!" he yelled at the TV, "If I lose this game, I owe Larry 10 bucks!"  
  
The final seconds ticked down, as Nick's team came up short of victory. A crushed Nick made his way towards his wallet to get out 10 dollars for the next day. As he opened up his billfold, a piece of paper fell out. A certain slip of paper containing the name of his character to play at the party the following evening.  
  
A slight frown crept across his handsome features. *How hard can it be? It's just....man...what DO they wear that makes them stand out? Oh. Oh yeah. Man, this should look interesting on me.*  
  
Nick scanned his closet and found that he did not own any of the required clothes, which kind of made sense. *To WalMart we go!* he thought to himself as he jumped in his car and sped away. ************************************  
Warrick was the only one of the two CSIs that knew what they were going to wear right from the get-go. The only problem was actually doing it.  
  
Warrick sat on his bathroom counter, elbows rested on knees, face in hands, having a stare down at the hair dye in front of him. *Do I REALLY want to do this?* he asked himself. He shrugged, *why not?*  
  
He reached for the bottle and carefully began to streak color through his dark hair, praying that the outcome wouldn't be devastating. ********************************* Greg had his costume assembled in 10 minutes, tops. It wasn't that he knew ahead of time who he was going to draw--it was just the simple fact that this person would be very easy to pull off.  
  
He stood in front of the mirror for the 67th time, making sure everything looked in order. The lab tech was pleased with his skill, thinking he looked quite the twin to the person he portrayed.  
  
He smirked, making him look even more like his character, and turned to plan the rest of the party. *********************************  
  
Grissom got home later then the rest, due to the sheer fact that he practically lived at the CSI office. He still hadn't looked at the name on the paper, and even considered not looking at all. Not even going to the party. But then he saw the look of disappointment on Sara's face. The reprimanding glare of Catherine. The hurt look of Greg. The other two wouldn't show as much expression, but they would definitely be put out. He smiled to himself, and allowed himself to go a bit crazy just this once.  
  
Grissom settled into bed, placing the un-opened paper on his nightstand. His plan was to read until he felt drowsy, then read the paper right before he went to sleep so he could literally "dream-up" an idea.  
  
A half hour later, Grissom put the book down and reached for the paper. His hand hovered over the slip, as if it were his ultimate doom. Once he looked at it, he could never go back. He picked it up and unfolded it.  
  
He did a double-take, to make sure he read it right. Of all people, this was the last person he thought he'd get. It almost made sense, but he was SURE with his luck he would have been stuck with...with someone else. *Obviously, Gil, that's not the case.*  
  
With that, he slowly drifted off to sleep. Trusting in his dreams alone to provide him an answer. 


	3. The Arrivals!

A/N: I wanted to hurry up and get this posted after the filler-type of previous chapter! I will definitely have more chapters after this, because this party is gonna HAVE to last way into the night! Enjoy!  
  
Ch. 3 Summary: Arrivals! I know this is also pretty short, and may be considered a filler, too, but I swear it'll be worth it! Or at least I hope so!  
  
Chapter 3: Arrivals, Bay-Bee, Yeah!  
  
Greg lit the final candle and surveyed his apartment with pride. The living room had been adorned with candles, cards, and a plateful of fruits as a centerpiece on the coffee table in front of the couch and chairs. On the small table in the front entrance rested six nameplates that the guests were to pin on themselves as they entered. The kitchen had the other horderves arranged, many without meat, for the benefit of Sara. Or the person formerly known as Sara. As of tonight, every one is someone else. Greg smiled at his own genius.  
  
15 minutes before the party was set to start, Greg retreated to his bedroom to change into his outfit. He checked his hair and winced. *Oh well,* he thought *it will all be worth it in a few minutes!*  
  
10 minutes later the doorbell rang. Greg's heart gave a leap of excitement for the first guest he was about to encounter. He peered through the peephole. It was Nick. In a very fabulous get-up.  
  
Greg bit his lip to stop the laughter. Nick was wearing a low-cut black tank top with a pair of tight, red jeans and a black belt. His hair was parted down the middle and combed over to each side. He resembled a twenty year old man in the 1930's that had a bad run in with Richard Simmons.  
  
Nick stood sheepishly in the doorway, "You gonna open the door so I can save any dignity that I might have left?" Greg swung open to door and let his friend inside. Nick turned and stared at Greg's costume.  
  
"What the--" he began, but Greg cut him off.  
  
"I don't want any comments on my costume until everyone has arrived," Greg explained, he stared at Nick for a bit more. "I'm guessing Sara, right?"  
  
Nick blushed, "Yeah, is it that obvious?"  
  
Greg shrugged, "I'll leave that for the others to decide. Here, take one of my artistically created name tags. Made with the sheer genius...of me. And get comfertable, my man, 'cause it's gonna be a loooong night!"  
  
*********  
  
Grissom stared at himself in the mirror. He knew he could have done better, but there was no way he could go out in public with what he originally had to wear. He was heading getting ready to leave, when he decided he'd check his email first. You know, just in case.  
  
He was vaugely suprised to see an actual email from Catherine admist the junk mail and spam. He double clicked it to open it up.  
  
Hey Gris,  
  
I hope you realize you are about to be shown up by a girl.  
I can sit here and know in my heart of hearts that  
your costume will be NOTHING compared to mine.  
Face it, Gris, you're just scared. It's okay, we allhave fears. Even  
though you are perfect and all knowing in every  
other  
field, I know that you are terrified of being different. Just  
wanted to email  
you and gloat a little. You know, rub it in before it even happens.  
I'll see you tonight!  
  
--Catherine  
  
That was it. Despite every thought, moral, and ideal Grissom had ever held dear to him, he wasn't going to let Catherine talk cyber-trash and get away with it. He'd show her how DIFFERENT and OUTGOING he could be! He smirked to himself and headed back towards his bedroom to give his costume a few adjustments.  
  
*************  
  
"D'ya think it'll work?" Sara asked over Catherine's shoulder as Catherine sent the email.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Catherine said confidently, leaning back, satisfied with her handiwork, "Ready to get this show on the road?"  
  
"Am I ever!" Sara exclaimed, and the two decked-out ladies headed out the door.  
  
*************  
  
Back in Greg's apartment, a round of War was going on.  
  
"Is this the only card game you know how to play?" Nick asked, grabbing up his King and Greg's Ten.  
  
"No," Greg said smugly, "it's just that my superior intellect would tear you apart in any other card game."  
  
Nick flashed a smile and picked up another winning draw, "Ah, I see."  
  
The doorbell rang for the second time that night, and Greg popped up and ran to the entrance, peeping through the eyehole.  
  
"It's Warrick!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah? What's his attire?" Nick asked.  
  
"It's....oh, I canNOT believe this!" Greg exclaimed and open the door.  
  
"Boo," Warrick said and strode inside.  
  
"I DO NOT LOOK LIKE THAT!" Greg roared.  
  
Nick turned around to get a glimpse of the action. Warrick stood in the entrance way, a dead ringer for a darker-looking Greg. His hair was fussed and bleached blonde at the tips. He had a long white lab coat over a striped t-shirt and a pair of black pants. However, the masterpiece that topped off the costume were the mammoth pair of black, thick rimmed glasses balanced atop Warrick's nose. The bridge of the glasses was wrapped up in white tape, and the curved lenses magnified Warrick's eyes to many times more than their original size.  
  
Nick snorted a laugh, "I dunno, Greg, I think he's got you pegged."  
  
Greg fumed as the other two exchanged high fives. Warrick turned around and gazed at Greg, "Are you some sort of weird mix--"  
  
"Ah, ah, ah, Warrick," Greg said, recovering his high-and-mighty air,"None shall comment on 'The Costume' until all have arrived."  
  
**********  
  
It wasn't long until there was another knock on the door, indicating the arrival of Catherine and Sara.  
  
Greg opened the door, and saw the two women. "Catherine, lookin' VERY nice in that get-up."  
  
He gawked at Sara, "Woah. NICK! WARRICK! You may wanna see this!"  
  
Before the other two could fully absorb the presence of the two females, another figure came up from behind Catherine and Sara. It was Grissom.  
  
His apology never came out after seeing the looks on the faces of his peers.  
  
Sara, noticing the expressions on the guys' faces turned, and gasped. She nudged Catherine, who also turned around.  
  
Catherine's jaw dropped, and she blinked slowly several times. Sara's face was contorting into a small, amazed grin. Greg looked impressed. Warrick and Nick looked like they would never recover from this moment. Ever.  
  
"And they said 'it's impossible," Grissom muttered.  
  
A/N: HA! You thought I would tell you Greg, Cat, and Sara's costumes so Grissom's could be known?! Yeah, right! I know this chapter only covered Nick and Warrick but I swears (to..the precious!) that everything will be taken care of next chapter! And the party will also be underway at that point, too! Thanks for stickin' with me through three almost-pointless chapters! 


	4. Fish Nets and Fly Wings

A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating for 5.6 billion years! Midterms + basketball state tournament is not a good mixture! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you after making you wait so long! Thanks for stayin' loyal!  
  
Chapter 4: Fish Nets and Fly Wings  
  
"Ouch, Griss, this is a blast from the past," Catherine commented wryly once the party moved inside Greg's apartment.  
  
"Yeah, Boss, I don't know whether to call you scary....or hot," Warrick admitted.  
  
Hot wasn't the word to describe Grissom's costume. Outrageously unorthadox, perhaps. Or stunningly disturbing. But not "hot."  
  
"I'll have to admit this is MUCH better than mine used to be," Catherine observed, looking her friend up and down.  
  
"Would you care to elaborate on what exactly possessed you to do this to yourself?" Sara asked, biting her fist to keep from laughing.  
  
Grissom went into a full-fledged explination of this very costume being in his dream the previous night, but he had been too embarassed to actually wear it. However, after receiving an ego-crushing e-mail from the very person he was to impersonate, he decided to go back to Plan A.  
  
And now here we was. The magnum opus of all costumes. A seducing array of glitter and fish-net. A sensulating assortment of paint and high heels.  
  
Yes, Gil Grissom, head of the second best crime scene investigation office and lab in the country...was an exotic dancer.  
  
His costume was a golden-seqenced corset, a feathered crown on his head, knee-high "hooker boots," a red-sequenced mini-skirt, and, to top it all off, enough glitter red-and-gold eye make-up to cover four stage actors.  
  
Grissom cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, "I am going to go change; I just wanted to wear this to show you I could. Greg, bathroom?"  
  
A shell-shocked Greg pointed down the end of the hall. Five pairs of eyes followed the clanking sound of the high-heels down the corridor, until the slamming door silenced it. The remaining CSIs turned to face one another.  
  
"Raise of hands, who saw that one coming?" Greg squeaked.  
  
"Man," Nick breathed, shaking his head, "I didn't think Grissom was capable of wearing anything but work clothes, let alone WOMEN'S EXOTIC DANCER CLOTHING!"  
  
Five minutes later, Grissom emerged, still dressed to fit Catherine's description, but in a much more sutable fashion. He now sported tan leather pants with a horizontal striped green-white-and-tan tank top. Now that Grissom had returned, the others could fully observe the womens' costumes.  
  
"Sara, I am guessing you were tryin' to pull of my style," Warrick said, eyes drifting up Sara's body and resting on her hair, "and my 'do."  
  
Nick snickered into his fist, Greg looked love-struck. Sara sported a white A-tee underneath an unbuttoned black dress shirt, complete with jeans. She wore colored contacts for a more greenish-grey eye color, like Warrick's. However, the best part about her costume was the hair. Her thin, normally flat hair was poofed up into a stunning beehive-type hair-do, a close imitation of Warrick's own 'fro.  
  
Sara smirked, "Yeah, there are about 6 trillion bobby pins and 3 billion gallons of hairspray holding this thing up," indicating to her head, "and I NEVER would have been able to pull it off without our resident hair expect here," she said, jerking her thumb towards Catherine.  
  
Catherine smiled and waved modestly, which brought the attention to her outfit. She wore an attractive jean jacket over a white t-shirt, along with stone-washed jeans. Brown cowboy boots, spurs and all, covered her feet. Her two masterpieces were the humongous leather cowboy hat and even bigger belt buckle with a monogram of Texas on the front.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Cath," Nick blushed, "That's such a typical stereotype."  
  
"I thought it'd remind you of home on the range, pardner," Catherine drawled, looping her thumbs through the belt loops and pretending to spit in the trash can, "How about, Lil' Buckaroo Greggy? When we gon' up and see his car-stoom?" she finished, drawling out the word "costume."  
  
"Okay, enough messin' with Texas," Nick threatened, "Ya'all don't EVER see me talkin' like that."  
  
Everyone else burst out laughing, each slapping Nick on the shoulder before taking a seat on a couch or chair.  
  
"What?" Nick asked, confused.  
  
"Where's Greg?" asked Grissom, speaking for the first time since his costume change.  
  
"PREEEEE-SENTING!" a booming voice called from the other room.  
  
"Oh brother," Catherine sighed, burying her head in Nick's shoulder.  
  
The booming voice continued, "STANDING AT 5 FEET 10 INCHES...WEIGHING IN AT 168 POUNDS...THE NON-COLLEGE-GRADUATE-'CUZ-HE-WAS-SMARTER-THAN-YALE-OR- HARVARD ALL STAR.....GIL "THE ENFORCER-AND-ALL-AROUND-BULLY-TO-THOSE- INFERIOR-TO-HIM-ESPECIALLY-SMART-CUTE-FUNNY-MODEST-LAB-TECHIES" GRISSSSSOOOOOOM!"  
  
Greg ran out into the room, NBA basketball player style, "Ooh, ooh! Thank you! Thank you! You're too much!" he called to the imaginary crowd.  
  
"WHAT are you wearing?" Warrick demanded.  
  
"Almighty God...Grissom wasn't the only crackpot in this group," Catherine mused  
  
"Come to think of it, we're all crackpots," Nick considered  
  
"Speak for yourself, cowboy," Catherine muttered.  
  
"Like you have room to talk, Ivonna Humpalot," Nick shot back.  
  
The whole room stared. "It's from....Austin Powers....that....one girl...." Nick mumbled, mostly to himself.  
  
"Like I said, what ARE you wearing?" Warrick restated.  
  
Greg was wearing a black medieval executionor-style tunic and hood. In one hand was a whip, in the other was a voodoo doll full of pins and dressed in a lab coat. On his head were a pair of antenna, and on his back were two huge fly-like wings.  
  
"My version of Grissom!" Greg explained gleefully, explaining nothing.  
  
All heads snapped in the direction of a bemused Grissom.  
  
"My question is, how did he know my weight?"  
  
A/N: Party starts next chapter! I warned u this could be a longer-type story! bwa-hahahahahaha! Reading and reviews are a few of my favorite things...;) 


	5. Live Lobsters and Ruined Clothes

A/N: Alright! The party's actually starting!! Sorry it took 5 chapters to get to this point, haha. Thanks for your reviews, you guys are too kind! Oh, by the way...I got an email from giunit35 asking why this story is called "Grapes." That, my friend, will be answered in a chapter or two. That, and the fact that it's an original title that has little to do with the story. :-D  
  
Chapter 5: Live Lobsters and Ruined Clothes  
  
After the initial shock of Greg's outrageous costume wore off, the CSIs settled down to a card game.  
  
"Well," Greg said, rising after the last hand of Euchre was played, "it was nice playing cards with you inferior beings, but I am off to the kitchen to practice my masterful chef skills."  
  
"Oh yeah? What's on the menu, Emril?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Bahstan Lobstah," Greg pronounced with a stressed Boston accent, "and a few other delightful treats a la Gregory. Oh, Sarah, do you eat lobster? I kept one alive just in case you didn't want it."  
  
Nick shot Warrick a secret grin. Sarah made a face, "You mean that my decision on the matter of consuming this animal or not depends on if he is put to death in the next 5 minutes?"  
  
"Isn't that case for all animals?" Catherine pointed out.  
  
"Ick. No thanks, Greg, I'll just have the salad," Sara said, shaking her head.  
  
"Alright then! I shall return with the feast!" Greg proclaimed, marching into the kitchen as if he was off to fight a battle.  
  
**************A Short Time Later......*****************  
  
"Kiddies, time for dinner!" Greg yelled from the kitchen, causing his friends to rise as one and nearly tackle each other for seats at the dining room table.  
  
"Wow," Greg smirked, "I didn't know you all were that eager to eat my masterpieces."  
  
"We're not," Grissom grumbled, "we just want our food." The rest nodded in agreement.  
  
"Hey, uh, Greg, lemme help you out in there," Warrick said, beginning to stand up.  
  
"Yeah, me too!" Nick agreed, following Warrick into the kitchen.  
  
They returned moments later with a variety of plates with silver covers on top. "Grissom...Sarah...Cath..." Nick said, setting plates down in front of the respective diners.  
  
Warrick appeared with a huge bowl of salad and another bucket-type container of clam chowder. Greg brought out a plate of French fries. "Lobster, salad, clam chowder...and French fries," Sarah mused as Warrick snickered, "Nice one, Greggo."  
  
"It looks fantastic, Greg," Catherine said, eyeing her covered plate and rubbing her hands together, "When can we eat it?"  
  
Greg looked around to make sure everyone was situated, "Now sounds good!"  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, plate covers clinked as they came off and silverware scraped as it scooped various foods onto plates. Warrick snapped off a lobster leg and sucked in the meat, making Sarah cringe, "Mmmmm, nice, man," he sighed.  
  
Catherine looked at her lobster. It looked different from the others'. It looked darker, almost greenish, wetter, and colder. Catherine poked at it with her fork. Suddenly, the lobster whipped its claws around and poked back. Catherine let out an ear-splitting scream.  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" she screamed, backing out of her chair so quickly it toppled over.  
  
Grissom's head snapped around, "What??"  
  
Catherine hopped backwards and pointed at the squirming lobster on her plate, "THAT!" she screeched, "IT'S ALIVE!"  
  
Grissom walked over to Catherine's plate and picked up the lobster by the tail, inspecting it, "Legs are mobile, as are the claws and antenna. The tail is still thrashing, which means you have a quite strong lobster at hand," Grissom said, looking over the rims of his glasses at a shell- shocked Catherine. Sarah snorted a laugh into her salad, while Nick and Warrick exchanged high-fives.  
  
Catherine snapped out of her trance and rounded on the two celebrating men. "YOU TWO are responsible for this!?" she bellowed, glaring daggers at the both of them.  
  
"Aw, come on, you gotta admit it was pretty funny!" Nick said through galls of laughter.  
  
"Yeah, Cath, your face was priceless! It was all like 'AAAAH!'" Warrick commented, contorting his face to imitate Catherine's.  
  
Catherine clenched her jaw and moved back to her seat, "Pretty funny, eh? Priceless expression, eh?" She scooped up some of her clam chowder and brought it to her mouth, then hesitated, "Yeah, I'll show you priceless."  
  
In one fluid movement, Catherine flung her spoon forward, launching the glob of clam chowder. It hit Nick full in the face, followed by another hitting Warrick a split-second later. Both let out shocked cries. Sara, Grissom, and Greg burst out laughing, as Catherine smiled coyly. Suddenly...  
  
*SPLAT* *SPLAT*  
  
Two handfuls of ketchup-covered fries appeared on Catherine's denim jacket. Her mouth dropped in horror. She retaliated buy chucking her salad dressing at Warrick, leaving a gooey white line across his lab jacket. Some of it splattered against Greg's face. "HEY!" he called, and thinking it was Sarah, who was eating salad, threw lobster meat at her.  
  
"GROSS!" Sarah exclaimed as the meat plopped in her drink, "What the HELL did you do that for?!" she demanded as she squirted ketchup in Greg's direction. Suddenly, it was a full-fledged food fight, as people didn't care who hit who for what reason. Grissom sat back and watched with a bemused grin on his face.  
  
"Children!" he announced, finally, "Can we eat like normal adult human beings?"  
  
There was a momentary pause.  
  
*SPLAT* *SPLAT* *SPLATSPLATSPLAT*  
  
Suddenly, Grissom was covered in every type of food present. He blinked and looked down at himself, "I take that back," he said quietly, "to quote a famous comic book character: 'It's CLOBBERIN' time!'"  
  
The battle resumed, as literally every article of food was thrown until it was no longer recognizable as an edible substance. When the food ran out, the party resorted to their drinks. And when those ran out, they collapsed, weary from the vigorous exercise.  
  
Catherine leaned back and put a ketchup-coated strand of hair behind her ear, "Well, that WAS pretty amusing."  
  
Nick nodded in agreement, wiping clam chowder from his face. Sarah retreated to the bathroom to wring the mix of champagne and water out of her hair, which had been wet down back to normal. Grissom began to wipe the French dressing off his glasses. Greg attempted to get all the lobster meat off his back, where Warrick had run over and stuffed some down his shirt. Warrick began to clean up the battle zone, also known as the remains of World War III.  
  
Once everyone had returned to the table, more or less cleaner than before, Greg looked around at his friends and asked, "Who's up for a game?" 


End file.
